Her Melody
by SoulEaterAlbarn
Summary: After the fight with the Kishan, Maka finds herself spiralling into a deep pit of depression and angst. Her feelings for her partner, Soul, only complicates things. When Soul makes his own feelings for her known, Maka moves out of the apartment they live in together, though it's not enough to keep them from having passion filled, stolen moments together. Rated M.
1. his feelings

**Hi guys! So, I don't really know where I'm going with this. All I'm aware of is that it's two in the morning, I'm reading Soul Eater again, and I ship SoMa with a burning passion the size of the sun. So, enjoy!**

****Lemon for future chapters****

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters.**

Maka's POV

The Shibusen Academy was in shambles; the spires were knocked loose, windows shattered, and gaping holes through the walls showed the bright blue sky - too bright for the weighted atmosphere surrounding it, Maka thought. Considering everything they _could_ have lost in the fight with Asura, however, she didn't think they did so bad.

Kid, on the other hand, was suffering from a panic attack.

"_Look at it!_" He screeched, pulling at his glossy black hair, "Can you imagine the amount of time it's going to take to restore it to it's former glory?"

Patty, the younger of his twin pistol weapons, giggled, "Aw, come on Kid! It's not so bad!"

"It's assymetrical - _of course it's bad_."

"Honestly - " Liz, Patty's elder sister, blew out an exasperated sigh and launched into one of her usual soft-spoken lectures, whilst Kid moaned on the ground, muttering, "Depressed, die, worthless scum," over and over again. Maka didn't always understand the point of the lectures - they were really only encouraging his behaviour - but it seemed to put Kid at ease, so she didn't complain.

Leaving the three to themselves, she wandered around the ruins of the Academy, coughing slightly at the thick black smoke that - even a week after the battle - remained.

"Yo."

Startled, Maka yelped and fixed a glare at the smug white-haired boy in front of her, "Soul," She snapped, "You scared the crap out of me!"

"So I noticed." His pointed teeth stretched into a grin then slowly fell. His gleaming red eyes were filled with concern, "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"My dad showed up." She said flatly. Soul laughed, understanding immediately - Spirit Albarn was a lot to handle, even for his daughter. "Besides," She continued lightly, "You were hurt in the fight with the Kishan as well, probably even more than me." The memories flitted behind her eyelids - her friends, lying on the ground. Soul, sprawled on the rocks and motionless, Asura taunting and laughing from above.

"Hey," Soul frowned, his index finger pulling her chin up to look at his face. His eyes searched hers for a moment, "Don't worry about me." He said gently, "I'm fine. You know that you're the focus of all the concern, although I doubt BlackStar has let you forget how you stole the spotlight from him. What you did was no small thing."

It was a rare gesture of gentleness, one Maka knew her weapon only reserved for her. She nodded her head and pulled away. She didn't need the reminder of what she'd done in the fight with the Kishan - everytime she looked around was a reminder enough.

"I think I'll just go get some sleep." She said easily, turning away and flitting through the crowd. She wasn't sure why, but ever since the fight, she'd been unable to look Soul in the eyes or confide in him the way they used to. It wouldn't have been that hard to do, except for the minor fact that they lived together...

Soul's POV

Soul watched in dismay as Maka whirled around and slipped throuhg the small crowd of people; she'd done it _again_. Avoided him.

He curled his lip in frustration, just as a loud voice spoke up behind him, "Way to go, Soul. What'd you do this time to piss her off?" Turning, he was greeted with a shock of electric blue hair and a wide grin. BlackStar hung upside-down off one of the half-broken shop signs that had been destroyed from Death City.

"I don't know." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Girls were confusing, he knew, but Maka was another story entirely.

It didn't help that he was in love with the girl - he'd known from the moment he'd stepped in front of Ragnarok and suffered a blow to his chest that had nearly killed him - and which he still caried the scar for. At the time, he'd thought he'd acted as a proper weapon should have; put your meister above yourself. He hadn't realized until later that he'd acted selfishly.

To see Maka die would kill him as well.

He rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion and shrugged his shoulders. Though he'd managed to keep his feelings tucked away from Maka herself, he knew he wasn't doing a very good job with the others. Kid and Tsubaki he knew, were aware. Liz had a suspicion. And, of course, Patty and BlackStar were the only ones besides the girl herself who managed to let the obvious signs slip right past their heads.

"Why don't you surprise her with something?" Tsubaki, BlackStar's ever-so-patient weapon, spoke up from beside her meister. Her black hair was shot back into a long ponytail as usual, her curves elegantly sheathed in a black tunic with a small beige star stitched on it to pledge her alliegence to BlackStar. Soul still didn't know how someone so arrogant could have been matched so well with someone completely opposite from himself. That wasn't how he and Maka worked at all.

Soul ran a hand through his white hair and sighed, "Like what?" He asked grudgingly. He hated bringing his feelings out on the table so obviously, but there was nobody better to ask than Maka's best friend, Tsubaki.

The willowy girl pondered it for a moment before smiling lightly, "Do something that'll mean something to her alone. Not a blind act, like making dinner or buying her something. Give her something that _means_ something, you know?"

He did know. And he knew exactly what it was he would do.


	2. her escape

**And here's chapter 2 for you guys! Have fun with the first bit of Soma for now. xoxo rate & review!**

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Maka's POV

Maka was prone to taking spontanious walks - since the fight, she'd been edgy, moody. She knew Soul could hardly stand to hear her walk around their place all night, so she'd taken a habit of going out for midnight strolls along Death City. When she came back, her mind was at ease and Soul was asleep.

But not this time.

When Maka walked snuck back into her apartment, the lights were on. She blinked in surprise. Had she forgotten to turn them off when she left? She shut the door and walked in wearily, her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Soul?" She called out timidly. There was no answer. Her frowning deepening, Maka shouldered her way into his room - clothes were strewn across the floor, bed covers pulled back. Besides the mess, it was empty. Her own room was empty as well. So was the living room.

Her confusion quickly growing into concern, she nearly sprinted into their spare room - neither of them used it since Blair moved out. Soul used it to keep his piano in, though he never played anymore. It was something Maka missed desperately - coming home to the hauntingly beautiful notes of Soul's playing.

Soul was draped over the sleek piano, the black colour standing out in heavy contrast to the silky fine hairs that spilled over. He was asleep.

Sighing in relief, she walked to her weapon and shook his shoulders slightly, "Soul," She murmured, "Soul, get up."

A groan answered her. She shook his frame harder, "Soul, you fell asleep. You have to _get up_." At the hissed stage-whisper, Soul snapped awake.

"_Maka_," He gasped, "Did I... did I fall asleep?"

"That's what I've been telling you."

He groaned and rubbed his eyes, then seemed to realize where it was he was sitting. He jumped up from his seat and pulled a small barstool he must have grabbed from the kitchen earlier until it was next to the piano, "Sit." He ordered. Bewildered, Maka sat.

Sitting back on the bench, his fingers twisting in his red button-up tshirt, Soul shook his head, messy hair sticking up in every which way. From his fidgeting, Maka could have sworn he was actually nervous.

"I wrote something," He said finally, his eyes meeting hers, "I want to play it for you, if you'll let me." Speechless, Maka nodded. Soul let out a relieved breath, as if he expected her to say no, and then poised his fingers over the piano keys.

And then he began to play.

It was nothing she'd ever heard before - all of his ballad's had been filled with a desperate aching that left it's listeners - usually only Maka - feeling hollow and broken. He was a piano protegy, could probably play millions of beautiful songs, but she'd only ever heard the saddest bars. Until now.

It began the same way it usually did, his finger's slowly moving over the keys until he found the tempo, mesmerizing. The notes seemed to wrap her up in emotion, filling her to the brim with something she'd never felt before. Her eyes closed, almost unwillingly. After a few moments of listening to the music, she realized what he was playing her - he was threading out every bit of his soul, his heart, and offering it up on a platter, to her.

Fear, friendship, and rage engulfed her, pulling her down in a current of emotion. A loneliness that was only healed by a small girl with emerald eyes and thin pigtails. Sadness, excitement - dear god, _love_, - everything bundled into her, each note carrying with it a new sense of Soul she'd never gotten before. He was playing her his feelings.

When it was over, she sat on her barstool, her frame shaking slowly. Eyes opening slowly, she glanced over at Soul; his fingers were still poised over the keys, sweat trickling down his temples from the fast tempo. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he glanced over at her, the emotions he'd just given her raw on his face. She was nearly positive everything she felt was written on her own face as well. After a moment of merely looking at each other in silence, Maka got up and walked over to him.

Her fingers curled around his face slightly, wisps of white hair catching between her fingers. She stared at him in awe - Soul, who'd spent his entire life trying to build up his 'cool' reputation, who'd called her tiny tits and every other offensive nickname in the book - he'd given her every piece of him.

Maka leaned onto the tips of her toes, matched her height with his, and pressed her lips against his.

Soul's POV

He hadn't been sure how long he'd been asleep, he only knew when he woke up that he had a sense of determination he hadn't had before he'd fallen asleep. He was still scared of what he was about to do - terrified out of his wits, really - but he knew that if he'd get it out there, it would be worth it.

He almost backed out. As he played the first few notes, he felt his muscles seizing up and nearly preventing him from playing. Then she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her, and he stopped focusing on everything but the music his fingers were producing.

The result was more than Soul could have ever hoped for. Sitting on the bench, his chest heaving, heart in his throat, he waited for her reaction. When she stood and walked over to him, her fingers touching the side of his face gently, he nearly flinched away.

Then her lips were against his, and Soul swore he could see sparks.

His fingers were on her waist lightly, thumb brushing lightly over the smooth skin of her stomach. A small shudder ran through her body at his touch. His lips pressed harder against hers, opening her mouth with the increasing pressure. Their tongues glanced over eachother's, fighting for dominence. His arms lifted her onto the top of the piano, sharp teeth gnawing gently into her bottom lip.

She moaned lightly, legs wrapping around his waist. She moved closer to him, hips rolling against his. It drove him wild; he rained kisses on the side of her neck, leaving small bruises on her pale skin when he pulled away. Her fingers tugged his hair back, tangling in the silky strands and drawing it away from his forehead.

"_Maka_," He whispered, pulling her mouth back down to his. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, nearly ripping one of them off in her haste. He grinned at her impatience and helped her shrug it off, the material slipping onto the floor into a puddle. He pushed her back gently on the piano, kissing her stomach gently when it rode up. A small gasp encouraged him to lift the hem of her shirt up further, the bottom wire of her black bra showing.

Almost as sudden as it had started, Maka had jumped back up, nearly smacking their heads together. Soul stared at her in surprise, watching her face heat in embarassement. His heart stuttered. What...?

"I have to go." She sputtered, fixing her shirt and jumping down off the sleek piano.

"Go?" He echoed, "It's two in the morning, Maka. Where - "

He never got to finish his sentence. She was out the door before he had the chance to.


End file.
